Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of Mark's cramped apartment, mirroring the chaotic churn in his stomach. He hadn't slept properly in days. The email, discovered accidentally, sat open on his laptop: a rejection from a local bakery for a "part-time baking assistant" position.

Across the room, David, his supposed “software architect” friend, was polishing his collection of antique model trains. The rhythmic swishing of the cloth was maddening.

"So," Mark began, his voice sounding thin, "the big project at Global Dynamics… how's that going?" He held his breath, waiting for the answer.

David glanced up, his face carefully neutral. “Oh, you know. Slow and steady. Lots of meetings.” He returned to his trains. Mark noticed his hands shaking.